


Trapped

by Yesimawriter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Claustrophobia, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-03-24 19:23:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13817814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yesimawriter/pseuds/Yesimawriter
Summary: Harry was stuck in an enclosed space with no way to get out, and he just happened to have been stuck in there with Malfoy.





	Trapped

**Author's Note:**

> My betas were the amazing violetclarity, who gave me amazing feedback for my fic and such nice comments-I was absolutely blown away-and drarryismymuse, who was an incredibly helpful beta and I am honestly so grateful for her help with this.
> 
> Also to the anon who prompted this, I just have one thing to say: I'm sorry...or am I? No, seriously, I just couldn't help myself.

Darkness filled the small space, overtaking his senses and leaving him breathless and suffocating. He couldn’t tell whether his eyes were open or closed because all he could see, think, smell, hear and breathe was black. It was like he was in some kind of a void, a black hole, and all he could do was fall with no way to stop it. Harry hadn’t ever known that there was any way you could feel the blackness, but at that moment it was a feeling, an emotion. His mind felt like it had been drowned in darkness too, and it was as if time and space didn’t exist. There was nothing except for this. Harry was trapped in a small confining space and there was nothing there, just him and the darkness.

He felt something in the air, a sort of static, before he heard the slight shifting of feet and realised that he wasn’t alone. He wondered how he could have forgotten that there was someone else there with him.

“Draco…” Harry said softly, his voice full of hope and something else. He reached out to feel something other than the darkness and the blackness, to feel something other than the nothing. He wanted to feel the smoothness of Draco’s skin, the silkiness of his hair, the softness of his hands, and the richness of his expensive clothing.

He wanted to feel Draco’s warmth, the heat of his body against Harry’s own, and he wanted to feel those lips, to forget where he was and forget who he was. He wanted to forget everything and just kiss Draco, but a lump in his throat reminded him to think. He and Draco were rivals and they hated each other, or at least they had. Harry had stopped hating Draco a long, long time ago and he refused to think about the feelings that had grown in the place of that hatred, feelings that were just as strong. He doubted whether he would be able to resist the temptation to touch Draco and confess his feelings if he went down that line of thought with Draco so close to him. Although he couldn’t see Draco, Harry could sense him, and that was enough.

“…Potter?” Harry saw movement from the corner of his eye and immediately turned in the direction of it. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness just enough to allow him to see it. But he had gained hope just to have it smashed against the walls that trapped both him and Draco and kept them there. His vision blurred slightly at the edges and he closed his eyes tightly, anticipating an oncoming panic attack. He dug his nails into the heels of his palms, hoping against hope that he was mistaken, and willed himself to calm down enough for the threat of the looming panic attack to pass. “Potter…”

Harry suddenly heard footsteps and then felt Draco’s hands gently holding his own. He was hyper aware of the fact that he was breathing extremely heavily and sweating profusely, but he was more aware of Draco. Draco, who was easing Harry’s tight grip to open up his hands and refusing to let Harry hurt himself, had Harry leaning slightly backwards into the wall to let out a shuddering breath. He still had his eyes closed; he didn’t dare open them because he was still scared of looking, still scared of the enclosed space and the darkness. He was used to it and scared of it.

Draco’s body shifted closer to Harry and Harry could feel Draco’s hands brushing his own before they fell away. He could imagine Draco standing in front of him, his chest just inches away from Harry’s. The only thing stopping them from completely touching, their bodies flush against each other’s, was the fact that Harry was leaning away from Draco, away from sweet, sweet temptation.

“Draco,” he murmured, leaning forwards all of a sudden, because Harry had none of the self-control but all of the impulses. Apparently that had been the wrong thing to do because when he opened his eyes, the world started titling, and it wasn’t until those familiar hands held him that Harry realised he’d been the one tilting and the world was pretty much the same as it had always been.

“What the fuck?” Draco exclaimed. He set Harry down on the floor, leaning him against the wall again, and then sat down next to him.

Harry swallowed the lump to finally speak. “I think I’m going to have a panic attack.” He turned in Draco’s direction and saw a hint of caution in those grey eyes along with a questioning look on his face. “It’s…enclosed spaces and the darkness.”

He knew that he wasn’t being elaborate and wasn’t quite as eloquent at speaking as Draco was, but Draco seemed to have understood him anyhow. “Is it…” Draco seemed to hesitate for a second, his eyes searching Harry’s before he continued to talk, “Is it because of your relatives?”

Harry sharpened his look, about to get defensive when he realised that there was no need to. Sighing, he gave Draco a curt nod. “The enclosed spaces thing happened because of them but I think the fear of darkness developed after the war…or during the war, I just found out about it afterwards,” he muttered.

Silence followed Harry’s confession, and just when he was sure that Draco was never going to reply, he did. “How long have you been getting the panic attacks?”

Inhaling a huge gulp of air, Harry decided to go a bit vague with his response this time. “I’ve been getting them for a while now.”

“Me too,” Draco said, shocking Harry into silence. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Harry shook his head. He’d been getting the attacks long enough to know that nothing could stop them. The most he could do was calm down enough for them to pass as painlessly as possible.

Draco continued to talk. “Here,” he said, taking one of Harry’s hands and pulling it towards him. At first, Harry felt nothing but then there was the sensation of Draco’s chest rising and falling, his heart beating. “Try to slow down your heart beats as much as you can and follow the rise and fall of my chest,” Draco ordered. Harry nodded his head, deciding to concentrate on what Draco had told him to do. “Now think of a happy memory,” Draco continued to speak, “Like maybe one with you, Granger and the Weasel, or maybe the time you had too much treacle tart or-”

“Or the first time I competed against you in Quidditch and won.” Harry couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face.

“-Or that.” Harry didn’t have to look at Draco to know that he was glaring at him.

“Now that’s a happy memory,” Harry murmured. They both stayed silent after that, letting the panic attack run its course before trying to communicate again, knowing it would otherwise be fruitless to try.

“Thank you,” Harry said, after the attack had finally passed. He didn’t remove the hand that was still tuned into Draco’s heartbeat and could feel the rise and fall of his chest, he instead gripped the silky texture of Draco’s shirt with it, wrapping his other hand around Draco’s back to pull him into a hug.

He expected Draco to push him away immediately and demand to know what he was doing or maybe declare that Potter was hugging him and that he hated hugs. Draco did not do either of those things. He simply hugged Harry back, his grip just as tight and firm as Harry’s.

For a quick second, Harry thought that he was having a panic attack again because his heart rate increased and his palms grew sweaty, but then he realised that it wasn’t the attack striking again, it was just Draco. The thought made Harry pull Draco even closer to him, and he suddenly felt Draco’s body grow tense as he froze up.

“Potter,” Draco muttered, and Harry listened, waiting for his next words with worried anticipation, “you’re scaring me.”

It was Harry’s turn to freeze. Draco’s response hadn’t been what Harry had expected and he realised that maybe the panic attack, the hug, along with calling out Draco’s name so desperately, and almost falling head-first onto the floor, must have given Draco quite the fright.

“Sorry,” Harry said, loosening his grip on Draco but not letting go completely. He could already feel Draco beginning to pull away. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

Harry was caught by surprise again when he heard Draco’s, “Me too.”

He pulled away completely after that, leaning against the wall again. He could see Draco doing the same thing from the corner of his eye. They both just sat there for the next few minutes, soaking in each other’s presence as a reassurance until Draco spoke up.

“We need to get out of here,” he said.

Harry could hear the slight edge in his voice and turned to him, a bit concerned. “I’ve tried doing everything, but nothing is working. Magic doesn’t work here and neither of us have any weapons or anything that can help us to break out of this place. I’m sure the Ministry will find a way to get us out of here soon enough.”

“I don’t have that much time,” Draco said, and now Harry was certainly just as scared as Draco had been a few moments before.

“What do you mean?” 

Draco pushed his shirt sleeve up in response. Harry didn’t have to look down at his arm to know what lay there; he already knew the exact location of Draco’s Dark Mark. He’d dreamt of touching it, of gently tracing its outline while he kissed all of Draco’s troubles away. Sometimes he’d even dreamt of kissing the Mark as he pushed himself inside of Draco, telling him how good he felt whilst Draco whispered words of encouragement; or maybe Draco was the one who was putting his cock in Harry as he whispered his name and Harry just told Draco to go _deeper, harder, faster please_.

Harry shook his head at that, snapping himself out of that daydream and inadvertently having to focus on the Dark Mark permanently inked onto Draco’s forearm. To his horror, he noticed that the Mark had changed its appearance and seemed different now. It had a greenish sort of hue to it, with the serpent that protruded out of the skull seeming to grow increasingly hyperactive as more time passed.

“Draco,” Harry uttered his name with a panicked edge. His voice had gained a new quality to it, a raw edge that it had only ever acquired once before, during the Sectumsempra incident. His heart almost leapt out of his chest when Draco didn’t respond, he simply kept staring at his Mark and the movement of the serpent, up and down his forearm, as if mesmerized by it. “Now, you’re the one scaring me.”

Taking a deep breath, Draco willed himself to look away from his mark to explain what was going on. “When we were given the Dark Mark, Voldemort had to make sure that all of his followers stayed loyal to him. Not only that, but he had to make sure that they wouldn’t change their minds under any circumstances, especially fear. So he modified the Mark in such a way that if someone with the Mark were trapped somewhere for a prolonged amount of time and also happened to be extremely scared, as in fear for their life kind of scared, then the Mark would poison us, spreading toxins throughout our body to slowly but surely kill us. It was, in a way, merciful, but also cruel.”

“Is that what is happening right now?” Harry asked, his heart in his throat, “Are you really that scared?” Draco sure as hell hadn’t looked scared in all of the time that they had spent in this godforsaken place, but then Draco always had been good at hiding his feelings, better than Harry had ever given him credit for.

“No Potter, I am not-” Draco’s voice suddenly cut off and a choked gasp came out instead.

“Draco! What’s happening? Is it happening?” Harry asked, adrenaline pumping through him. He shifted closer to Draco and gently held his arm, letting his own fingers trace across the Dark Mark.

“Potter, what are you doing?” Draco spoke breathlessly. Harry looked up pushing Draco’s hair out of his eyes.

“Why are you scared?” He asked, softly. “What are you so scared about?” Harry brought his hand down from Draco’s hair, fingers tracing the side of his cheek, his jaw, until it went under his chin. He titled Draco’s head up so Draco could look him in the eyes before letting his thumb graze Draco’s bottom lip.

“Potter, I-” Draco winced and Harry could tell that Draco was in immense pain. He hadn’t realised that Draco had turned to face him, or maybe he had been the one to turn Draco towards him, and his heart almost stopped when Draco dropped his head on Harry’s shoulder, closing his eyes tightly.

“Shhh,” Harry said, his hand now soothingly rubbing circles on Draco’s back, “You’re okay. You’re going to be okay, Draco. Do you hear me?” He felt Draco nodding into his shoulder, his hands gripping tightly onto Harry’s shirt.

Harry felt completely lost. He didn’t know what he could do to make the pain stop and to make Draco feel better, and he didn’t want to think about what would happen if the pain didn’t stop. So he did the only thing he could think of. One of Harry’s hands was still holding onto Draco’s left arm, so he pulled it towards him and kissed the Dark Mark.

He felt Draco shudder slightly in response and breathe out his name, almost like a moan, “Potter.” Harry noticed that the serpent was uncoiling from the skull and stretching slowly upwards as well as downward, and as it rose up and down his arm, so did the green hue. “Potter?”

Draco must have felt the tenseness of Harry’s shoulders, or the rest of his body, because he had straightened up and was now looking at Harry. He seemed tired, exhausted, just as much as Harry was sure he seemed to be, or even more perhaps. But all he knew was that he couldn’t let this happen again, he couldn’t let Draco die, especially not in front of him.

“Draco,” he croaked out the name with great difficulty, swallowing the lump in his throat, “We need to get you out of here.” Draco nodded his head in response, determination showing in his eyes and this time Harry was sure it mirrored his own.

“How are we going to manage doing that? Any thoughts or great ideas Chosen One?”

“You’re the Slytherin. You should know that you make the plans and I execute them.”

“Smart talk coming from someone who was once going to be in Slytherin,” Draco responded, and it didn’t skip Harry’s notice, the pain that flashed across Draco’s face for a hint of a second before he spoke.

“We really do need to get you out of here,” Harry said, finally standing up and having a look around. “We have to figure out a way,” he glanced down at Draco, who seemed to be trying his best to reign in any expressions of hurt or intense pain. “How long do you think you have?”

As Draco met Harry’s eyes, Harry was flooded with memories of that horrifying day in sixth year when Draco had met his eyes in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom mirror with that same look in them. It was a look of hopelessness and helplessness, when he knew that nothing could be done to save him-but Harry was going to prove him wrong-he was going to save him. Draco wasn’t going to die, not on his watch.

“Not long,” Draco said, drawing in a huge gulp of breath. “Potter, I- if I-”

“Don’t,” Harry said, kneeling down in front of Draco. “Don’t do this to me, or yourself. We’re going to be fine, Draco. I destroyed Voldemort twice and I died and came back. You are not dying.”

“Ah, yes, Potter,” Draco was wheezing now. “It would be a shame, wouldn’t it, to watch me die after you saved me from that Fiendfyre. Maybe I would’ve been better off in Azkaban.”

Tears started to burn the corners of Harry’s eyes and dread coiled in the pit of his stomach. He quickly turned away from Draco before he could see the hurt and pain that showed on Harry’s face.

His heart almost leapt in its chest as he felt Draco’s right hand reach out to cup his cheek. Harry let himself gaze back into those grey eyes and let a shiver pass through him as he let the tears fall down his cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he heard Draco whisper.

“For what?” Harry asked, his voice trembling as Draco’s thumb grazed across his cheek, wiping away the tears.

“For hurting you,” Draco said. “I never mean to, and yet I always do somehow manage to hurt you.”

Harry sucked in a deep breath. “You don’t.” He closed his eyes again, pushing his face into Draco’s hand, and felt another one slowly join in. He suddenly shook as the tears started pouring from his eyes, _faster and harder. “Please_ ,” he almost begged as he sobbed. Draco had been the one constant in his life, the one person he had always felt connected to in some inverse but deep way. He was so predictable, because after spending so many years and so much time with Malfoy Harry could tell, and yet so unpredictable because he still somehow managed to catch Harry by surprise, even after spending so many years and so much time together. “Please don’t.” Harry broke down completely, gripping and tugging at Draco’s shirt to pull him closer. As Draco’s arms fell to his sides, Harry put his head on Draco’s chest.

“Potter,” Draco said, softly, as he tried to hold Harry’s face again. “Potter, come on. Look at me, for Merlin’s sake!”

Harry only buried his head deeper into Draco’s chest. “Please don’t leave me,” his voice came out muffled.

“Potter,” Draco said again, but he said it in a way that was so fond and loving and so full of emotion that Harry couldn’t really believe it had come from him.

So Harry pushed himself up and his eyes widened, heart in his throat as he noticed that the snake’s head had reached Draco’s neck. This had to mean that the tail was wrapping around the rest of Draco’s body. “No.”

“Potter, listen to me. We haven’t got much time. I-I have to tell you something. I have to tell you how I feel,” Harry looked up and met Draco’s eyes in shock, “about you.” It couldn’t be possible, could it? It couldn’t be possible that Draco felt the same way, that he felt the same intense burst of emotion every time he looked at Harry or thought about him, or even dreamed about him. Draco couldn’t possibly have gone through the same pain and torture of knowing that Harry didn’t feel the same way about him. But Draco’s eyes told a different story, and Harry knew exactly how to read them. He was confident enough in his abilities to be sure.

“I feel the same way,” Harry blurted out and Draco’s eyes widened in shock that turned into disbelief. “We will talk about this, Draco, but not right now. I’ll tell you how I feel and then you can tell me how you feel as soon as we get out of here, alright? Because if-if-I can’t.”

Draco nodded his head in understanding and then said the last thing Harry had ever expected him to. “Can I kiss you?”

Harry couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even process what was happening except that the snake’s head was moving closer to Draco’s face, and Harry needed. He needed to do this. So, with a nod, he pulled Draco into him, leaning forwards to kiss him like it was the last time he was ever going to do it because although Harry didn’t want it to be, maybe it was.

“Yes.”

Harry felt water spill from his eyes as their lips met, and it was everything that Harry had wanted and more. Sparks flew across his whole body and a familiar heat spread throughout him, along with a warmth that grew in his heart and kept growing.

Draco’s hands were cupping Harry’s face, kissing him like his life depended on it, and maybe it did. Their lips met again and again, soft, sweet and smooth one second-deep, desperate and determined the next. Passion and want oozed out of their kiss but there was something more there, something that Harry wanted to explore, something that he needed them to discover together.

He knew he wasn’t the only one crying, he could feel the tears spilling from Draco’s eyes, falling down his cheeks, but he didn’t stop and neither did Draco.

“Harry,” he heard Draco whisper. He blinked at that, but soon enough his thoughts on hearing Draco call out his name were lost in the sensation of the kiss. He could tell that it was nearing its end and he knew that he couldn’t keep it inside anymore. He needed to tell Draco; he needed to confess.

As their lips slowly parted, Harry pulled away and finally admitted his feelings, his eyes still closed. “I love you, Draco. I love you.” Harry let out a deep breath at that, feeling as if some kind of a burden had been lifted off of his shoulders.

Yes, he loved Draco, and he had been in love with Draco for so, so long. He’d been afraid and so scared to admit it, but he wasn’t anymore. He didn’t think he was afraid of anything anymore. He was wrong though, and he realised it when he noticed he hadn’t heard Draco respond to the confession or even felt him move in a while.

When he dared to open his eyes, he noticed that the snake that had been crawling across Draco’s skin was gone and so was the greenish hue that had tinted it. He just lay there with his eyes closed and his lips slightly parted still.

“…Draco?”

**Author's Note:**

> The verbal consent for a kiss is the most important bit of consent that is given in the story, but it’s also there throughout the fic. Harry wants to touch Draco, he wants to kiss him and do things to him, but he never does it, not until Draco asks if he can kiss Harry or until Harry has to comfort him. The same goes for Draco, and this extends to talking as well. There are certain things that both Draco and Harry hesitate to talk about with one another, and not just because they used to be rivals or have a complicated history, but because at that particular moment of time, it might trigger them or because all the other needed was the peace and quiet. So I believe that there was a constant underlying question of consent for every action, every move they took, and every time they talked.


End file.
